


Duck Tape

by CarolineTries



Category: Logan Lucky (2017)
Genre: Clyde Logan is a Good Boyfriend, Clyde Logan is a Sweetheart, Clyde helps you through a tough time, F/M, Soft Clyde Logan, Southern Gentleman Clyde Logan, you are sad and Clyde is there to help
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:47:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27951023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarolineTries/pseuds/CarolineTries
Summary: A two parter where Clyde helps you through a tough time.
Relationships: Clyde Logan/Reader
Comments: 9
Kudos: 20





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've written this due to Clyde being a bit of a comfort character for me. This talks about depression and a bit of emotional abuse. If those are triggering to you, I honestly wouldn't recommend this. its a reader insert, and this is the first time I've tried writing like this, so I'm sorry if its a little off. Also editing, is terrible. I know. I wrote this on my phone while crying so, this is rough as hell. I am bad a t tags, so if anyone has any suggestions, please feel free to let me know.

Walking into Duck Tape to drop off Clyde's dinner was an every night occurrence. You couldn’t remember the last time you didn’t bring him something. Tonight, was no different. Although you had to fight with yourself to get out of bed.

It was a rough day for you, with everything going on at work, and finally having a day off after 10 days on. You were exhausted, physically and mentally. It didn't help that the time of year was the hardest on you. 

But you did it, you got out of bed. And so what if you were just picking something up from the diner up the street? Not every meal needs to be home cooked. Clyde never complained about a damn thing, he was just happy to see you. 

Grabbing the take-out bags from the passenger seat, you made your way into Clyde's bar. The bell over the door rang and Clyde instantly looked up. A smile making its way over his face, “There she is!” He excitedly says. “Bill, watch the bar while I sit with my lady for a few.” He tells the bartender. 

You smile up at him, trying hard to force the bad feelings you’ve had all day out of your head. You hated making Clyde worry. He walked up to you, grabbing the bag of food. Placing a sweet kiss to your cheek. You both were too bashful and shy to make a scene. Anytime you had kissed him in front of people at Duck Tape, there were howls and hoots. Just a little too much attention for the both of you. 

Together, you walked to the table in the back corner. Its where you ate every night he worked late. Sitting down, Clyde placed the bag on the table, and you started taking all the boxes out. “Oh, I need to get some Ketchup, do you need anything else?” You ask Clyde. 

“I’ll get it baby, don’t worry.” He said getting up before you even had a chance to protest. 

Returning to the table, Clyde saw that you had everything set up. He placed the ketchup in the middle of the table, and he even brought you a coke. You both ate in silence, it wasn’t abnormal. But usually there was some form of chatter between the two of you. Maybe Clyde was extra hungry tonight, he was all but inhaling his burger. 

It was a little harder for you, times like this when your head forces your thoughts to be so loud, your stomach feels like its tied in knots, you can hardly eat. You still hope Clyde doesn’t fully notice. Then again, you know Clyde, and how observant he is, so you try. You eat your fries and ignore your burger. “You’re not hungry baby doll?” He asks, his southern twang making every word magical and kind. 

Your heart sinks, you don’t want to tell him. “No, just had a late lunch, that’s all.” You smile at him. 

He grabs your hand, rubbing your knuckles. “Alright, well I’m just about done. How about we get you out of here, don’t need you around when the rowdy bunch get in tonight. The Mountaineers are playing.” You knew exactly what that meant, and you loved supporting the college team, but they weren’t the best. After a loss, the bar typically filled with angry men who would drink too much. Clyde didn’t want you around that. He usually has to close up early on these nights due to the rowdiness of the crowd. 

Clyde walks you to your truck, holding your hand. Knowing you left the pick-up unlocked, he lets go of your hand and opens the door for you. “You’ll text me when you get home right?” He asks. You nod your head, you always do. “Alright darlin’, I’ll let you go.”

He wraps both arms around you. It took a long time for him to feel that comfortable with you, and you were so glad he trusted you enough. That he felt comfortable enough. For the first year of your relationship, he would be apprehensive to touch you with his left arm. He would apologize. You told him that his arm didn’t bother you. You knew that it was something he had to overcome, but you encouraged him. It took until about the two-year mark, for him to be comfortable enough to embrace you with both arms or even just wrap his left arm around your shoulders. Sometimes, you hold his prosthetic hand, making sure your other hand takes a hold of his bicep, so he knows. 

When you moved in together, he slept with his prosthetic on for the first month. You had to sit down and talk with him, letting him know that you want him to be comfortable all the time, especially when sleeping. It’s been three years and some months of being with Clyde, and sometimes he still hesitates, but you just smile at him and accept and love him with your whole heart. 

“I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours, y/n.” He whispers into your ear as he hugs you. 

Tears instantly spring to your eyes, you pull away and look up at him. “I’m okay.” You try to sound strong, but your voice was small. 

“No, sweetheart, you’re not. But you will be. Go on, get home and get comfortable. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He tells you. 

You climb into your truck, and Clyde buckles you in. You grab his face, knowing no body was close enough to see, and kiss him. It’s a short kiss, but its full. Pulling away you run your nose against his. “I love you.” You tell him. You feel him breathe in deeply, taking in the moment. 

“I love you too. Drive safe” He replies as he stands up, shutting the door. You start the truck, and watch Clyde get smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror as you drive off. 

Getting home, you did what Clyde suggested, getting into something comfy. And comfort to you was one of Clyde’s shirts. Lucky for you, he had the one he wore last night folded on the foot of the bed. You slipped out of your own clothes and put his vintage tee on. Pulling up the neck, you inhale. Cedar, bourbon and his soap. Clyde was a simple man, who didn’t wear cologne, except for special occasions, but yet he smelled so good all the time. It was just him. 

You crawl into bed and pull the comforter over your body. It feels like as soon as you’re settled you can’t help but think. How Clyde knew something was wrong, how you felt like a burden for making him worry. How work was just so overwhelming that the past ten days you left your shifts in utter exhaustion and on the verge of breaking down. You felt like you were inadequate and unworthy of everything. What have you done to deserve everything you have? 

The tears started falling and even while all the thoughts were happening, you knew that it was ridiculous. That this felt so dumb, you shouldn’t feel this way, there’s no reason for it. But you couldn’t help it. The years of emotional abuse you had endured from your family, the constant torment of being told nothing you did was good enough. You’d never amount to anything, no one could love someone like you. Those were the tamer things. 

You left all of that behind, you turned your back and never looked back. You lived your life the best you could, but sometimes the trauma poked its nasty head back in. When it gets really bad, the voices change from your parents to your own. When its them telling you that you were worthless, it wasn’t so bad. But when it was yourself, and you couldn’t even look in the mirror without being disgusted by what looked back? That’s what broke you. 

Today was just one of those days. Clyde’s been there for you throughout your entire relationship. Always willing to listen, offer kind words, or just hold you. He understood your pain and where it came from. He tried to make sure you knew how much everything you were told growing up wasn’t true. He was first to say “I love you” when he did it, he told you that he knew you might not be ready to say it back and to take all the time you needed. Love and affection weren’t easy for you to accept. But for some reason, with Clyde, it was. You believed him. He was a good, honest man. 

You told him you loved him a month later, through anxious thoughts and tears. You sobbed, and apologized, because you wanted to say it to him and him know you really meant it. But it was scary for you. He just wiped your tears, looked you in your eyes and said “I love you too, darlin’, and I know that wasn’t easy for you. I think that makes this so much more special, don’t you?”

Sometime had passed, and you were still in your head, when you heard the front door open. You glanced at the clock on the nightstand, it was only twenty past midnight. You try to wipe away the tears and pull it together. He might know you aren’t having a good day, but he didn’t have to see it so fully. 

You see the hallway light turn on from the cracks in the door frame and then the door opens. Seeing the large silhouette taking up the whole doorway, gave you a small sliver of joy. It didn’t matter if he had just come back into the living room from getting water, or if you were just waking up in the morning, whenever you saw Clyde you felt whole. He was your person. 

He walked over to you, sitting on the edge of the bed, and he caressed your cheek. “I’m just gonna clean up and I’ll be back, okay?” He asks, and doesn’t wait for a reply, getting up and finding some clothes. He’s a quick five-minute shower kind of man, and he even jokes about how long you take, when you really only take 20 minutes max. 

When he comes back in, you can already smell the soap and shampoo radiating off of him. You hear him take off his prosthetic, placing it in its case. The bed dips as he gets in. You feel the comforter flutter as he pulls it over his body, and scoots as close to you as possible. His arm reaches around your middle and you feel his chest on your back. “I’m sorry you had a rough day darlin’.” He whispers in your ear. 

You can’t help but cry more. And a little harder. Sobs erupting from your chest. You just felt defeated in every aspect, and yet you almost couldn’t explain it. You knew where it stemmed from, but you didn’t know why it had to keep rearing its ugliness in your life. Clyde knows that it’s hard for you to be like this in front of him. To be so vulnerable, in this way. You were both extremely open with one another. You know most things about Clyde and about his life. And he knows about yours. Even the bad. He told you about the heist he did with Jimmy telling you everything he had to do for the plan. He didn't regret it, but he wasn't exactly proud. You know about his tour in Iraq, the things he saw and did. How some of those memories haunt him. He's broken down in front of you a few times, he's not afraid to be authentic around you. He knew about your upbringing. He knew why and how you ended up in their small town when you lived in the city your whole life. The troubles you’ve gone through. The pain and hurt you faced growing up. 

And yet even now, as he holds you against him, you're still just a little embarrassed that you can’t keep it together enough to not be a sobbing mess. 

"That’s alright sweetheart, let it out. I've got you." He whispers. Nuzzling into your neck, trying to provide as much comfort as possible for you. 

"I'm sorry, Clyde. I'm sorry I'm such a mess and that you have to put up with me." You say through broken cries. 

"Don't you dare. I love you. I love all of you. The good the bad. The easy and the tough. I dont 'put up with you' y/n. We will get through this." He tells you. Though his voice is more stern, it’s not angry. He’s just saying it in a way so that you know that he means it. That it’s true. 

You really have no reason to think he would be lying, he's never lied to you once when it matters. But still, your head is a bad place to be in right now. You can’t help but think he should just leave you. That he deserves so much better. So much more stable for him. 

It’s quiet for a few minutes as Clyde lets you cry. "Can you...can you just talk? Not about this, but anything?" You ask him. 

"If you want me to, I will." 

"I do, your voice is just calming. It will give me something to concentrate on." You offer. 

And so, Clyde softly talks, his deep voice rumbling in his chest. He tells you about his day and then talks about how he had to go help Millie this morning because the router in her shop wasn’t working and she needed it fixed. He tells you about the new shed he wants to build out back, just for storing some of the fore wood, protect it from the elements. About the new books he has coming in, how excited he is to read them.

Then he starts talking about you and how happy he is with you. How excited he is for the future. The future you’ll have together. Hearing him talk so openly about his dreams, and how they include you brings you so much comfort. 

He talks about marrying you and how, even though its up to you, he would like a barn wedding. Simple, but elegant. How he thinks he might cry seeing you walk down the aisle in your dress. That he’s imagined it so many times, it feels like it’s already happened.

He starts talking about the first time he saw you. Walking into his bar, he had never seen you before but was already transfixed on your every move. He thought an angel appeared before him. Too shy to ask you anything other than your drink order. A martini with a twist. You didn't even know the martini was his specialty. His favorite thing to make, to show off. He quickly made your drink, gently placing it on a napkin in-front of you. 

You remember when you asked for it, you didn’t really know why you did. It wasn’t your usual drink. Maybe it was to seem more sophisticated or maybe it was fate. You were new to town only been living there for about two weeks. Everyone had talked up the little hometown bar, so you thought you would pay it a visit. You're so grateful you did. 

Clyde goes on about how it took him until seeing you the fourth time to ask you for your name. That he was so nervous and hoped he didn't come off like a creep. He already knew that he wanted to know everything about you. But he only had the guts to ask for your name. 

"Y/n, that’s a pretty name if I ever heard one." He told you. 

"And you're Mr. Clyde Logan," you told him confidently. Everyone knew everyone here and you had asked your coworkers about the bar and they talked about Clyde. 

"No 'Mr' just Clyde, darlin." He smiled at you. His eyes squinting and dimples big. 

Clyde recalls how you sat in the same seat and ordered the same drink, twice a week. Even though now, he knows you prefer a vodka soda with lime. How he looked forward to you coming in those days. 

Then Clyde asks if you remember the first time you two really connected. You nodded your head; how could you forget? It was the night of the big high school football game, but you had no clue. Everyone from town came into the bar after. Celebrating the win. 

As always things got a little wild and out of control. You felt uncomfortable. So much so that you felt like if you tried to leave it would be worse than staying still and waiting it out. So, you sat and waited. But the crowd just got worse with the amount they were drinking. 

Clyde leaned over the bar, looking in your eyes, "Let me walk you out, y/n. These guys only get worse and you look miserable. Let’s get you home."

You nodded your head and watched as Clyde made his way around the bar to you. He reached out his hand and you took it, feeling electricity run through your fingertips at the touch. 

"Hey Clyde, where you takin her? She’s the prettiest one here tonight. Was just about to ask her to dance!" One of the patrons asked. 

"She can hear you, don't be rude" Clyde said sternly. 

You squeezed his hand "That’s alright Clyde, I would've said no anyways" you said looking at the stranger. 

"What you wanna dance with fuckin Clyde?" the man asked you. 

Clyde let go of your hand and pointed at the man "You'll watch what you say, if you knows what’s good for you." 

"As a matter of fact, I would dance with Clyde. He’s nice, respectful and courteous. Unlike you." You say a bit out of character, but you could handle your own just fine. You turned to Clyde, grabbing his hand again, "Can you please walk me to my truck now, I can see what you meant earlier." 

"Anything you want sweetheart." He replies and you two walk out of the bar. "I'm sorry, not quite sure which one is yours." He says scanning the packed parking lot. 

You lead him to your truck, "Just over here." You tell him. Still holding onto his hand. Once you reached your truck you turned around to face Clyde, "Thank you for walking me. I don’t think I could have done that on my own. I was getting a little anxious with the energy in there" you explained. 

"I could tell. I should have told you, I'm sorry. That’s not a place for a lady. Hell, its not a place for me. I usually shut down early when the crowds get like this. Perks of being the owner I guess." 

"Definitely," you agreed. You looked up at the night sky, the stars shining bright. Unlike the city where the light polluted the sky, out here it was crystal clear and everything seemed so much more, "beautiful." You let out. 

"I agree," Clyde said, looking at you. 

Your cheeks turned red, and even if he couldn’t see, it was still embarrassing how much you were blushing. "Clyde Logan," you started, playfully hitting his chest, "That’s the cheesiest line in the book." You smiled. 

Maybe, but I meant it. Can I ask you something?" You nodded. "Do you think I can have your number? I just want to make sure you get home okay." He might be shy, but if it was something he wanted, he would make it happen.

"Of course, Clyde. Let me see your phone so I can enter it in" he dug in his pocket and took out his phone and handed it to you. you texted yourself and entered your name into his address book. You put the phone in his shirt pocket, patting his chest. “Okay, I guess I should head on out.”

Clyde nodded at you and looked like he was holding back on something. “Whats wrong?” you asked. 

Uh, you know what? Its not a big deal. Just happy to text you." 

Clydeeee" you exaggerated. "Please? It'll bother me all night if i dont know"

Clyde seemed to think it over again. “I was just going to ask if I could hug you." He said rubbing the back of his neck nervously. 

"I would love that." You tell him. 

Once he embraced you, you were intoxicated by his warmth. You pulled away first, just because if you didn’t, you would have stayed like that all night. You slowly kissed his cheek and whispered a thank you. Then got into your truck, rolling down the window. "I meant what I said." 

"What’s that darlin?" 

"I would've liked to dance with you." 

"I'll make sure to save you a dance for next time" he said.

"Only if its patsy cline." You quipped. 

"I wouldn’t dare do it any other way, text me when you get home," he tells. You nodded your head. 

And you made sure to text him, and then you just never stopped talking after that. 

Clyde’s voice recalling that story helped lull you into sleep. You felt him kiss your cheek again and whisper sweet dreams into your ear. And he didn’t let go all night. He wouldn’t ever let go.


	2. Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, if talks on subjects surrounding mental health and emotional abuse are triggering for you, this might be tough to get through. Okay, I can't blame my phone this time for the bad editing, if you've read any of unlock my heart, you might already know, I am just terrible at editing. there's always a few mistakes left in that I catch later and will fix, but for now...I am sorry.

You woke up warm. Why would you feel anything else, when you’re encompassed in the embrace of the man you loved? Opening your eyes, you could tell it was early. Twilight seeping in through the windows. Dark, purple, and quiet. 

Knowing you wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep, you got out of bed. Being careful to not wake Clyde, holding yourself back from moving the hair off his face. He looked so beautiful and peaceful, just existing in his dreamworld. You grabbed a pair of knitted socks and slid them on as you walked out of the room. One final glance at Clyde to make sure he didn’t wake up. 

You didn’t want coffee, but you wanted something warm and comforting. You put the kettle on, to make a nice cup of tea. Waiting for the water to boil, you start thinking. About so much. You’re still feeling shitty, and you just wished that you could shut it off. People say the bad times make the good so much better. But you never saw it as that. 

When it’s this never-ending cycle. Being so high you take everything for granted. The sun, the mountain air, his laugh. Then it comes crashing. And you always, always, ignore the signs. You feel it building. But you’re still happy, so you think it’s okay, that there’s still time. Until there isn’t. And it hurts. So much that you physically can’t take the emotional pain. Before you moved in with Clyde, you would sob and scream just to try and take some of the pain out of your head. You swore you could feel your heart hurt. You hated it so much, you begged to feel numb. Not happy, because you knew what came after, but you just didn’t want to feel. Crying out for the universe to take the pain and memories away. It never did. Nothing ever would. Those things happened. And they would always be with you. 

Clyde won’t ever take any credit for it, but he’s the one who helped you the most. The first time your depression came through, about five months into your relationship, you didn’t talk to him for two weeks. You could barely function, and if you didn’t have to pay the bills, you wouldn’t have left your apartment at all. You went to work, came home, slept. That was it. Taking care of yourself wasn’t possible. You forced yourself to eat what you could stomach, which wasn’t much, and it wasn’t every day. Barely drank any water. Bathing was out of the question. Not when you knew that if you just got home, you could crawl into bed to escape. 

You wanted to call Clyde, to talk to him. Hear his deep voice. You were too scared to show him that part of yourself. He had called you, texted you. He was concerned for you. You couldn’t answer. And you didn’t understand why or how anyone would give a shit about you. You didn’t deserve his kindness, his heart. Then he showed up and knocked on your door. When you looked through the peephole, you knew you had to be brave and answer. 

When you opened the door, you noticed Clyde’s eyes take you in. Probably noticing how your eyes were puffy from crying. Even though you spent your time in bed, it didn’t mean sleep came easily, the circles under your eyes evident. The messy bun sitting on top of your head, with hair that hadn’t been brushed or washed in two weeks. You knew you looked like shit, and now Clyde did too. But his stare wasn’t full of pity, it was understanding and compassion. What felt like hours of you both just staring at each other, probably lasted less than a minute. “Y/n, come here.” He told you. That was all the invitation you needed from him. You took the two steps towards him and Clyde hugged you. You couldn’t help the tears, and the ugly crying. 

The whistle from the kettle stole you from your memories. Quickly you turned off the stove and moved the kettle to stop the noise. Getting a mug and pouring the hot water over the tea bag, you let it seep for a few minutes. You grabbed a creamer pod and poured it into the cup. Clyde had laughed when you bought the little cups, he wasn’t much for unnecessary things. He said you could just get a carton of milk. You told him, neither of you drank milk fast enough to finish even a half gallon. And the creamer you used for coffee was sweet, so you thought a pack of 25 half and half creamers would last a while. He eventually got on board. 

Before leaving the kitchen, you got the coffee pot ready so Clyde could have some when he woke up. You wanted to do something nice. It was never about big gestures or gifts with you two. It was about consideration, compassion and thoughtfulness. It was the smallest things that you both always noticed the most. 

You walked away from the kitchen and opened the door to go onto the back porch. Clyde might not be an extravagant man, but his home was his heart, and the land he chose was the most beautiful. Having money didn’t change him, and his home was simple and functional. But he made sure every detail was perfect, that it was the best. That was where he wanted to spend his days. Where he wanted to grow old. You hoped you could do that with him too. 

It was a little chilly just in Clyde’s shirt and your socks, but not uncomfortable, you stood at the banister overlooking the land. Early morning greeting you. The sun still had yet to rise, but the purple in the sky was beautiful. This time of day, everything and everyone was asleep. Animals, humans, the plants, and the wind. It was quiet and under other circumstances, you would have thought it to be calming. 

Sometimes, the quiet could be the most deafening. You held your cup close to your chest, the steam rising in the crisp air. You felt like this was where you belonged, in the nothingness of the world. Where nothing could hurt you, and you could be nothing. Tears slowly filled your eyes, and started falling down your face. They stung, and you couldn’t tell if it was because of the salt in the tears or from the pain your soul held. You truly hated this. You felt so heavy with emotions and yet, so empty. The cup would only get bigger the fuller it became. 

You jumped a little when the back door slid open, but you didn’t turn around. You quickly blinked away the remaining tears, and wiped your face. A blanket was placed around your shoulders, and a big man stood behind you. “I’m sorry if I woke you,” You told him. 

“You don’t need to be sorry, darlin’ I just missed you is all.” Clyde explained. “The beds not the same without you.” He placed his mug on the ledge of the wooden banister and wrapped an arm around you, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. “Thank you for the coffee.”

You stood there for a while, just watching the morning come to life. It felt right. To be standing with Clyde. He broke the silence, clearing his throat, “If I could, I would take the burden of your pain. I would do anything to make you never feel this way. And I know right now, it seems impossible, but you’ll be okay. We always make it out on the other side.” 

“It’s not that it feels impossible, Clyde. It’s that I know I will always have these days, weeks, months. However long. It always comes back. It always ruins things. I feel like…I feel like I’m ruined. You shouldn’t have to take care of me like this. You deserve to be with someone who won’t drag you down every few months. You deserve someone who isn’t so fucked up.” You spoke the words as they came in your head, not thinking them through. You promised Clyde you would be honest with him, not matter what. 

“I know you think that, baby, but I’m always going to disagree. I want nothing more than to take care of you, to help you. I want to always be the one you can confide in. Just like you’ve told me plenty of times, just know, I will not give up on you or us or push aside your feelings.” Clyde paused, taking a deep breath, “My words might just seem like words, but I mean them.”

Twisting your neck to look him in his eyes, “If there’s one thing I know, Clyde Logan, it’s that you are a man of your word. And I’ll never take that for granted.” 

“Let’s go inside. I don’t want you getting sick.” He said, grabbing his cup again. 

“Only if you read to me.” 

“Of course, darlin’. Anything you want.” He opened the door again, letting you enter the house first. 

He grabbed the book he has been reading and sat on the couch, and you laid down, resting your head on his legs. He opened the book and started to read Great Expectations. His voice was comforting, and you’re again reminded of the first time he helped you. 

When he entered your apartment, you apologized for the state it was in, “I’ve not really been feeling well. Not myself.” 

“Don’t apologize.” Telling you as he scanned the apartment.

“Okay sorry.” You said, quickly looking up at him, knowing you did the exact thing he told you that you didn’t have to do. 

He asked if he could sit so you could talk. When he noticed your tears forming, his eyes filled with worry. Asking if he said something wrong. You shook your head at him. You didn’t know how to explain to him that you were too scared to let him in. For him to know how fucked up you were. 

He reached for you, and you backed away. The hurt in his expression made you exhale deeply. “Please don’t. Let me help. I want to. You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to, but let me be here for you.”

“It’s difficult…For me to let you, or anyone, help. It’s not easy.”

“I don’t want easy, I just want you. I’m not scared and I’m not going anywhere.” He looked at you waiting for you to respond. When you didn’t, he took a step towards you, holding out his hand, “Let me help. Baby steps. Together.”

You didn’t take his hand. But you nodded your head, and that was good enough for him. You don’t remember how but he convinced you to let him run you a bath. He was gentle and took his time. A wash cloth ran over your body and he carefully brushed out your hair, and you cried. You tried to hide it from him, pulling your knees up to your chest and resting your head on them. He knew, and placed a kiss to your shoulder. He scrubbed your scalp, and when he felt like it was okay, that you were okay, he left you to sit in the water. 

You continued to cry, you felt like you didn’t deserve the kindness. His kindness. He was being so soft, it hurt. Hurt knowing that you were so broken that he had to pick up the pieces. He didn’t know why or what had happened, but he as there with you. He came back some time later, with fresh clothes. You got up and he helped dry you off. You swore you saw him blush when he started dressing you. He had seen your body plenty of times, but this felt so much more intimate and fragile. 

You reached up and cupped his face, “Thank you Clyde.” He nodded at you and told you to go to your room while he cleaned up. Walking into your room, you couldn’t help the tears. He had changed your bedding and picked up your clothes putting them in the hamper. You almost didn’t want to get into the newly made bed. 

“I hope it was okay? I just figured, new sheets always help me feel a little better.” Clyde asked. 

“Thank you. You didn’t have to.” 

“Go on and get under those covers, I’ll be back in a minute.” He said leaving you alone again. You did what he said, got into bed. He returned with a bottle of water and an apple he cut up for you, placing them on your nightstand. 

“You don’t have to eat it now, but just in case you want a little snack.” He said and you nodded at him. “How are you feeling?” He asked rubbing your cheek with his thumb. “Be honest.”

“Shitty. But less shitty.” You admitted. “Can I ask you a favor?” 

“Always.” 

“Can you stay the night? I don’t really want to be alone. I’m not ready to talk about things, and I know that’s selfish, but I promise I will try to tell you when I’m less,” You gestured to your apartment, “fucked up.” 

Clyde was silent for a few brief seconds. But those seconds felt like an eternity. Were you asking too much of him? This relationship was new, and well he didn’t sign up for this. To be involved with someone who couldn’t open up easily. Someone who had shit to sort out, every step of the way. “Of course I’ll stay, Baby Girl. You can tell me whatever you want, whenever you want. This is your story and I’ll never force you or expect you to tell me anything you don’t feel comfortable saying.”

He stayed that night and came back the next three nights. After the third night he suggested you get out of your apartment and stay with him at his house. You agreed to it, and the whole time he never pushed you. Slowly you started to come back to yourself. It always took time. 

When you finally told him everything from your past, he didn’t say anything at first. He did have tears in his eyes, taking in all the information. You knew it wasn’t an easy story to hear, because it was a difficult one to tell. He understood pain and trauma, and knew everyone’s stories were different, but that never made them any less valid. 

Clyde never turned his back on you when you felt this way, he always helped you face the demons head on. He always provided a safe environment. He never made you feel broken or useless. He was a light in every aspect of your life. And you’ll never know how to repay him, other than providing him the same amount of respect, strength, comfort and love he gives you. 

You sit up from laying on the couch, and gently take the book from him. Clyde looks at you, confused. You move so you could look him in his eyes, “Thank you.” He tilted his head, letting you continue, “For never giving up. For being my rock. For being my person. I know it’s not easy,” Clyde opened his mouth, but before he could say anything you stopped him, “I need to say this.” He nods in understanding. “I just want you to know, that even when things get tough for me. When I feel so hopeless, I don’t know what to do. When I don’t even know how to cope. That you, Clyde, you’re the one person who hasn’t given up. Who isn’t afraid to face these things with me. By my side. And I hope you know how much I appreciate you. I love you” 

Clyde sat still, deep in thought. You hoped you didn’t seem selfish or inconsiderate. You didn’t want him to think that you expected him to comfort you or save you from yourself. you reached for his knee. “Clyde, I’m…sorry. I wasn’t trying to make it anything other than me thanking you for-”

“You never have to apologize. I just was trying to come up with the right words.” Which was always true with Clyde, he thought things through. He always took everything in, and considered them. He took the extra time to make sure what he said was what he wanted to say. Sometimes people mistook his thoughtfulness as him not understanding. For him being dumb or shallow. That pissed you off. They didn’t know Clyde’s mind like you did. They didn’t see the bookcases filled to the max. All read. He never put a book up until it was read, which lead to the stacks of books on the coffee table and nightstand. They didn’t see how brilliant of a business owner he was, they just assumed that because he was one of two bars in town that is what helped him out. They didn’t see the plans and the spread sheets. 

You remember one time you had gotten so mad when one of the customer’s called him stupid. Clyde didn’t stick up for himself, he just got the man his drink and took his money. You took it upon yourself to have a few words with the man. It just ended up pissing you off more and you ended the conversation with “You don’t even know him. You’re just another fuckin asshole here taking advantage of his kindness. Fuck you.” 

Clyde took you to the office, and had you sit in the chair while he rested against the edge of his desk. He told you that you shouldn’t argue with drunk people. And you told him that you were just tired of people being so mean and hurtful. Clyde grabbed your chin forcing eye contact, and he told you that the only people he cares about were his family and you. That he couldn’t give two fucks about what anyone had to say about him. Especially in his bar, because at the end of the night, their money was going into his pockets. And you knew he was serious because he rarely cursed in front of you. 

Clyde cleared his throat, “Y/n, I love you. And I know that the word ‘forever’ scares you. But that’s how long I’ll be here for. I can’t be a good man and sit and watch you in pain and not try everything I can to help you. But, I want, no, I need you to know, that I am here holding your hand while you fight this battle yourself. You are the one who pulls yourself out. Don’t discredit yourself, baby.” 

You can’t help the tears. You feel them spring to your eyes. He’s right forever scares you. because forever is approached as never-ending, infinite. But you know that within every forever are other forevers. Smaller, bigger. But in relation to time…forever doesn’t exist. That forevers are until the end of time. But some time-frames are shorter than others. And while he says forever, you know he isn’t lying. But what if the forever that you and Clyde create, ends. His promise wasn’t wrong, but the timeline was. Spiraling into the thought of forever, or the false forever. 

“I just don’t want to be this person. I just want to be the woman that’s right for you. And I know you don’t mind now, but what about in a year? Ten? Thirty? Forever doesn’t have to be a long time.”

“To me it is.” Clyde tells you, holding your hand. “When I say forever, I don’t mean a week, I mean until the end of my days.” 

“I know Clyde. I know. I’ll get through this. And I know I can, because you’ll be here supporting me. Comforting me.”

“Loving you. I be here loving you, Darlin’. We’ll get married and have kids if we want and we’ll grow old and there will be good days and bad ones. For both of us. And we’ll be the partner we need to be. You’ve never let me down. And I plan on never letting you down. I’m never letting you go.”

And you believed him, because he was a man of his word after all. You felt like hope had returned. You also knew that this didn’t just take away your pain and hurt, that this was just a breakthrough in a long line of anguish. You understood that in the bad there were moments of good, just like in the good there were moments of bad. Right now, it was bad but this moment was good. Clyde understood that too, and when he stood up, he brought you up too. “Let’s get in bed. I think a nap would do us good.” he gently kissed your lips. 

You nodded your head, you only slept a few hours, and the bed seemed like a good idea. Clyde knew that it was important to let you rest, to sleep. Though, he never let it consume you. He made you go on walks around the property and drove around the town, just to get fresh air, get out of the house. 

Getting into bed, and just like the night before, Clyde held onto you. Keeping you safe. “I’m never letting you go and I’m never letting you go through this alone. You’re never alone as long as I have a say in it. You’re strong and brave. Everything you went through, wasn’t fair and it wasn’t your fault. You didn’t deserve any of it.” Clyde continued to give you words of affirmation. His encouragements lulling you to sleep. His voice providing comfort. His arms, safety. Everything you needed in a relationship he gave and more. And even though Clyde believed in the Logan curse, he sure had a way of making you feel like the luckiest woman in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Writing this, felt, therapeutic in a way. A lot of what I wrote stems from my own experiences. I just wanted an outlet. I thought, maybe someone could find comfort in this as well. -Caroline

**Author's Note:**

> All I can say is, I adore the hell out of Clyde, I appreciate it if you read this. it is a two parter, but I'm not sure when I'll update. writing isn't the easiest for me right now. This is a passion project, int he sense that I didn't plan or really try to figure anything out, I just typed. But its helped me cope with some stuff I have going on.


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